


The Finding

by painted_lady12



Series: How Fondly Loves (The Homesick Heart) [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ceremony, Coming Out, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Pidge | Katie Holt, Grief/Mourning, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Sad Shiro (Voltron), Self-Acceptance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Traditions, like seriously it's just a lot of love and tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 14:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18235952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_lady12/pseuds/painted_lady12
Summary: Allura makes a promise to Pidge on their way back to earth: that they would perform a traditional Altean Finding ritual, one that would recognize Pidge officially as gender fluid.   Now that they're back on earth, they start to prep for the ceremony.Just a lot of love for our mischievous little green paladin and a little bit of Shiro grieving.





	The Finding

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves<3
> 
> If you're reading this and haven't read the rest of "How Fondly Loves (The Homesick Heart)-Pidge" that's okay! You don't need the other fic to understand this one (but it will definitely help).
> 
> I really wanted to do something to recognize Pidge's journey of finding themselves. I feel like in a lot of fics it's just background information, or just generally accepted by everyone. I wanted to take the time to highlight how huge it is of Pidge to learn more about themselves and accept themselves, as well as learning that others accept them as well.
> 
> As usual, I do not own Voltron: Legendary Defender

Commander Iverson prided himself on a lot of things.  His stern but consistent temperament had earned him awards, promotions, and many official commendations.  It was his own personal belief that he should treat everyone under his command with the same level of respect that they should treat him.  He saw it as a manifestation of “practice what you preach”.

He was also known for his liberal and accepting nature.  One of his top pilots had been gay and disabled, and that was just one on a long list of soldiers that Iverson had given a chance.  In his opinion, too many good people were denied the chance to succeed because they didn’t conform to certain standards, and it rubbed Iverson the wrong way. 

Iverson winced when he thought of Shiro, remembering their interaction just the other day.  When Shiro had seen Adam’s name at first, he appeared to be in shock. 

Iverson had kept a very close eye on him since.  Security would often send him locations throughout the base so that Iverson could go find his wayward captain.

Now, the metallic clicking of his heels on the Garrison floor used to be something that commanded power and respect.  In the wake of the new additions to their cause, however, it now felt like a flashing neon light. There were species of all types descending upon earth, ones with different cultures and ideologies and anatomies.  Over the years all who opposed the Galra had adapted an aloof or secretive outfit to keep themselves out of sight. They stood in stark contrast to the loud and proud Garrison soldiers.

The two groups were integrating over time, though.

It was three weeks after they had defeated the Galra, with most of Voltron being discharged from the hospital.  Iverson was on his way to speak with Paladin Hunk when he got a transmission from the security booth.

_ Fifth floor abandoned bunks, room 5524 _

Immediately he turned around and made his way over to the barracks.

When he got to the fifth floor and saw room 5524’s door open, he knew exactly what he was walking into.  They hadn’t staffed the bunks above the third floor anymore due to decrease in numbers and also to keep energy usage as efficient as possible.  Heating, cooling and ventilating a whole floor was a lot of power to take away from powering their war machines.

Iverson stepped into the doorway and cringed.  He regretted some of his decisions immediately following the death of their largest group of soldiers.  

Primarily, in that moment, he regretted that they had left their rooms untouched like tombs.

That meant, when Shiro sat down on the bed he had shared with Adam, he could probably still smell him.  Adam’s shirt was thrown onto the floor, and the other man fell to his knees, gathering the fabric into his arms, both flesh and robotic alike.

There were tears in his eyes, but he wasn’t making any noise.  In fact, Iverson was sure that Takashi wasn’t even aware of his presence, which was probably for the best.  

Iverson backed away slowly, but not before he heard a choked, “You know, he was an absolute asshole about doing laundry.”

The Commander swallowed, glancing back over at a man who had been to hell and back.  The same man that took the leader of the most evil empire head-on was sitting on the floor of his dead fiance’s room with his old shirt clutched to his face, sobbing.

“I always used to complain about how his basket was overflowing, and then when he ran out of clothes he would just steal mine.  I would pretend to be annoyed about it, but I always loved wearing something that smelled like him.”

Iverson came into the room and kneeled down partially, trying to get closer to the other man’s level.

“Now I’m…”  Shiro laughed wetly, “I’m just so relieved that I can still smell him, but it also might be worse to get this tiny thing but not him.”

That revelation made Shiro’s face darken, and the tears stopped abruptly.  His gaze sharpened, and Iverson could see the exact millisecond that Takashi Shirogane went from grieving fiance to hero of the universe again.

It appeared that the time for grief was over.

  
  


***

  
  


A few days later, when Iverson was sitting with Veronica McClain and discussing weapon modifications for some of their smaller drone ships on the Atlas, someone walked up to him with determination.

His eyebrows furrowed as he took a bite of roasted brussel sprouts, eyeing Lance McClain wearily.

“Hey, bro,” Veronica smirked up at her brother, who looked terrified and a little bit out of his mind.  His blue eyes were darting around, looking anywhere but into Iverson’s eyes. His fingers were restless in front of him, tapping on his thighs and knotting together without conscious thought.

“Hey,” Lance muttered, before finally looking over at Iverson himself.  “The paladins have a request that we were hoping you could assist us with.”

Iverson chewed slowly, eyeing Lance critically in order to size him up.  “I would love to help the saviors of planet Earth, but I need more information than that.”

“Okay, well,” Lance pulled a list from his pocket and shoved it towards the Commander, who plucked it out from in front of him and ran down the increasingly bizarre list of items.

“What’s nunvil?”

“Oh, it’s just alcohol.  Any sort of alcohol will do.  Champagne would be preferred if at all possible.”

The nervous boy that Lance had been a second ago had melted away, leaving a more confident and charismatic man behind.  Iverson wondered if time worked differently for people who had been apart too long. One second ago Lance was a scared, barely passing cadet, and now he was a caring and determined paladin.

Veronica leaned over, squinting at the list.  “Does that say silk sashes?”

“Yes,” Lance confirmed.

“Why do you need… I don’t think these flowers exist…” Iverson was at a loss.

“Oh, if you look on the bottom Mrs. Holt wrote out the nearest earth equivalents for simplicity purposes.  This is just the list of things that we have restricted access to. We have most of the other materials already.”

“Materials?” Veronica popped an eyebrow, looking at her brother inquisitively and adjusting her glasses to study him closer.

“We’re performing a ceremony.  It’s for one of our paladins, and it’s an ancient Altean custom.  We were planning it to be…”

“Who told you that you could perform an ancient Altean ceremony on the base?  Did you get cleared?” 

“Well, that would be something else we’d need from you.”

Iverson waited patiently for Lance to make his case.

“Oh, well, um, we realized that it might also help to bridge the divide between Allura and Romelle and the other Alteans to see some of their lost culture.  So, if you want to think of this as a strategic move against the enemy, then it’s definitely something worth the effort. Also I think it would be great for morale.”

Iverson tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully.  They didn’t have many good reasons to celebrate anymore.  There were a few weddings here and there, perhaps a birthday party, but something new and exciting could do wonders for the sanity of everyone working on the Atlas.

“Alright,” Iverson said slowly, “I’ll respect the Altean tradition.  How can I help?”

  
  


***

  
  


Pidge stood in the bathroom of the large meeting hall they had set up for the ceremony.  It was supposed to be a small affair, but they could hear far more voices than agreed to milling about outside.

Allura was taking special care with the preparations.  Color was apparently very important to the ritual. Pidge was supposed to wear only green, white and gold.  They had a sweeping green jumper with a floral print jacket, their hair tied up with ribbons and what looked like carnations.  Allura was currently working on the face paint, which they had been working on for almost an hour now.

Pidge squirmed impatiently.  “Allura I’m going crazy.”

“Oh hush,” Allura responded fondly, “Only a few more minutes, I promise.”

Pidge would swear on their grave that it was another two hours, but they didn’t have a watch so they didn’t have any proof to back them up.

When Allura stepped away and twisted the mirror to Pidge, their eyes turned into misty saucers.

The art was stunning.  Gold and white paints were thinly lining and swirling all around Pidge’s face.  The white was to right to symbolize when Pidge was still searching for their identity, and the gold on the left was to symbolize when they finally declared who they were.  It was supposed to be a treasured moment, and a beautiful ceremony.

Pidge twisted in the swivel seat, looking from every angle to take in the minute details.

“I’m going to get some pictures now,” Allura said with a tight smile, and Pidge narrowed their eyes.

“You’re afraid that I’m going to wipe it off, aren’t you?”

Her false cheer dropped.  “I worked very hard Pidge.  I want to be able to have the memory forever, so sit still and let me photograph you.”

It was only another few moments before Allura stood Pidge up.  The Altean woman towered over Pidge, stately and perfect. So different than Pidge, and yet they had the same stubborn realism and short attention span.  Though they had started out in a rough place, Allura and Pidge had grown closer over time. When Pidge came out on their trip back to earth, Allura and Coran were the first to congratulate her and support her.  They even threw her a mini party with the promise of another one own the line.

Now Pidge stood at an entryway, tugging on the edges of the jacket and muttering, “Maybe I look too feminine, Allura.  They’re going to say that I’m faking it. I don’t want to do this…”

Except before Pidge could get anything else out Allura pulled her into a tight and reassuring embrace.

“You are Pidge Holt, paladin of the Green Lion, defeater of Zarkon and Lotor, intergalactic diplomat and defender of the universe.  No one should ever question you, and if they do, remind them about how you saved them and deserve their respect,” Allura thought for a second, “I was also told to tell you that Lance will beat up whoever doesn’t respect you.”

The breath Pidge was holding released harshly in a half-laugh half-sigh.  One second they were perched precariously on a tall cliff, and the next they could feel the gentle and loving touches of everyone waiting behind that door.

“Okay,” Pidge squared their shoulders, “I’m ready.”

Allura said something into her headset and then the doors started to open.

  
  


***

  
  


Romelle had never seen a traditional Altean ceremony.  Most of their customs had been adapted or lost to time.  The Finding, the ceremony that they’d been preparing for for two days, had thrown Romelle for a loop.

There was a semi-circle of people around a small dias that was twisted with vines and sprinkled with velvety petals.  They were all in green and gold and white. They had had to handmake a lot of the garments, but it had all come together nicely.

It was extremely satisfying to see the final product.  Coran and her had been working all day to get the room ready.  There were glowing lantern lights (paper bags and string lights), benches decorate with gold tassels and white flowers, and a small area with a few bottles of the human version of alcohol was.  All Romelle knew about that was that they were warned not to make the bottle explode too early.

Earth beverages were truly something to behold.  

There were people out in the benches who were wearing their nicest clothes.  Romelle could see the MFEs, and plenty of the Atlas staff. Lance’s family, always distinctive in their tight-knit group, were taking up two whole benches with giggling toddlers and excitedly gossiping adults.

There were other people there, as well, but the door had opened and Pidge walked in.  They looked stunning and concentrated as they entered. When they opened their green eyes and saw how many people showed up they paused in their measured steps to gawk.  However, Allura was right behind and nudged the stunned paladin onward.

There was some music being played on earthly instruments that Romelle didn’t particularly care for.  What she cared about was the way that Pidge beamed with pride. What she cared about were the tears gathering in green eyes as they took in the love and support that they were getting.

Pidge always insisted that they didn’t need anyone to say that they were accepted.  They always said that they just needed to know themselves. What Romelle realized in the short period of time she’d known the tiniest paladin was this: for Pidge, she sometimes had trouble drawing the line between surviving and living.

People could survive without support, but…

...it wasn’t a very sustainable way to live.

They didn’t need the support to survive, no, but it sure as hell didn’t hurt, either.

Pidge had reached the front of the dias, where Coran was waiting to the right and gestured for Pidge to turn around.

When they did the music went quiet.  Allura and Coran had taken up their spots on either side of Pidge, and Romelle moved quietly and swiftly to her position just behind Pidge.

Coran gestured to Romelle, who was holding a white sash.  “Welcome, everyone. Before the ceremony starts, our guest of honor will don the three colors of their ceremony.  For most of you this is all new, so I will let you know what each means,” he gestured for Romelle to come forward and drape it over Pidge’s shoulders, who was looking up at the Altean with a whole slew of emotions pouring from the gaze.

“White stands for Searching.  In our lives we are always searching for things.  We search for our purpose, our destiny, our friendships, our loves, and our identities.  By donning the white, Pidge is accepting that they acknowledge that even though they’ve chosen their gender, the Searching is never truly done.  Do you, Seeker, accept that you should continue to search for life, identity, and meaning?”

Pidge nodded, then cleared their throat and said, “Yes, I do.”

Romelle took a step back and bowed to Pidge before joining the semicircle behind the dias again.

Allura came up next with the green sash.  “The green sash is particular to the chosen gender of our our guest of honor.  The Seeker has chosen Ranok. In Earth terms this would closely resemble someone who identifies as genderfluid.  Green always symbolized versatility, life, and ingenuity. Ranok people are not bound by certain restraints and are able to more fully explore themselves and the world around them.  Seeker, do you accept that as a Ranok you will also be tasked with understanding the world around you to the best of your ability?”

Allura’s hands paused as they were about to let go of Pidge’s sash, but then she shook her head and wiped a tear as Pidge said confidently, “I do.”

Allura came back to the semicircle, and the two of them were passed items for the next part of the ceremony.

Coran held his sash up now.  “The gold sash symbolizes Pidge’s greater understanding of themselves and the world around them.  It celebrates the maturity and confidence it takes to fully embrace yourself. It commends them for standing strong and encourages others to do the same.  The golden sash is one of celebration, because our Seeker has gone through much to get to this point,” Coran was standing in front of Pidge now, a smile so wide and proud on his face that he looked as if he’d start to cry.  “Seeker, do you accept the love and support of those around you, as well as their respect in your choice to become who you were meant to be?”

“Yes, I do,” they responded, breathing shakily when the third sash was laid over their shoulders.

Coran turned around.  “In Altean customs it was very important to include everyone in the life of the Seeker in the ceremony.  Seeking out who you are can be a rocky and scary road, but the people you keep close help guide you to a place that you can discover all that you wish to.  Surrounding the dias is a group of people that are near and dear to our Seeker. Pidge will take the torch to their left and go to each of them and light their candle.  In doing this, they acknowledge that the loved one holding the candle was instrumental in lighting the way for this discovery. It also acknowledges that the journey never really ends, and that they will continue to light the way.”

Pidge stepped to the side and grabbed the tiny torch.  Romelle was the first one in line, so when Pidge came over Romelle grinned encouragingly.

“I’m proud of you,” she said with as much compassion as she could muster.

It was enough, because green eyes misted up and as Romelle’s candle was lit, Pidge had to swallow before moving on to Allura

  
  


***

  
  


Allura was five when she was in her first Finding.

Her cousin Ballin had come out as a woman.  She had been born a boy, but knew in her heart who she really was.

Due to the royal blood, the ceremony had been lavish and overwhelming.  Coran had lead that ceremony, too, but he was much younger. 

The entire royal family stood in their decadent dresses, clutching their jewel encrusted torchlights.  Everyone smiled and posed for the few reporters that managed to make it into the event.

Allura was the youngest one allowed into the ceremony, almost exclusively because she would rule Altea someday.  She was very worried that when Ballin lit her torch she’d drop it and ruin everything. She had held her torch with determination far beyond her years, and when Ballin had kneeled down and lit the torch, she’d patted Allura on the head with an awed look.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Ballin said quietly, and Allura nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ve never felt more loved in my whole life than I do in this moment.”

Now Allura stood in front of Pidge as the young paladin stepped in front of the princess, and she saw that same look mirrored in Pidge’s eyes.  Allura was old enough to recognize the mix of emotions that they carried in their expression: awe at the support they were receiving, fear of messing up the ceremony, proud for being able to share themselves with the world, and finally contentment that they were surrounded by so much love.

When Pidge lit her torch, Allura whispered, “Want to hear a secret?”

Pidge cocked their head to the side, clearly wondering if this was part of the ceremony but leaning forward a little bit anyway.

“I’m in awe of you.  You’re the youngest paladin in history, and one of the bravest, smartest, and most driven people I’ve ever met.  You deserve every bit of this attention and love right now.”

Their eyes spilled over, and clear tears were following soundlessly down Pidge’s cheeks.  Luckily the make-up was waterproof. The tears reflected the glitter in the gold beautifully as they traced their path down Pidge’s face.

  
  


***

  
  


Colleen Holt remembered pinning her daughter’s hair up in braids.  She remembered wrestling on skirts and encouraging Katie to grow her hair out.  She remembered many fights in middle school that she couldn’t wear jeans and a t-shirt to school every day.

When Katie had come home from space, they were all so relieved.  It took a little while, but they finally got used to have her around again.  Then, Katie came out to them. 

Colleen had to take a day to herself so that she could mourn all the moments that she must have let her child down in trying to force them to be something they weren’t.

Pidge was what they preferred to be called, now.  Pidge was her child, her lifeblood, her pride and joy.  Colleen had needed to come to terms with losing a daughter while also simultaneously gaining a more mature and complete child in exchange.

When Katie… Pidge… Katie stepped up to her in the semicircle and lit her torch, Colleen was in awe.  Her teen was dressed stunningly, with flowers braided into their hair but also a floral suit jacket and jumper.  The outfit fit them so well that it made Colleen’s chest ache.

“I love you so much, baby,” she whispered, leaning forward to place a kiss to Pidge’s hairline.

  
  


***

  
  


Samuel Holt was the first person who suspected.

He kept it to himself, of course, but he would take his daughter down to his workbench to check out what he was working on.  His daughter would sit for hours with greasy fingers trying to disassemble engines and design simple gadgets.

It wasn’t the ingenuity that made Samuel wonder.  It was the way that she didn’t care about the state of her nails, or how she rarely liked to wear her hair down or anything feminine, really.  Colleen had tried so hard to encourage Katie, but Katie wouldn’t have it.

Instead of dance classes, Katie learned to code.  Instead of girl scouts, Katie worked with a local college to build fully automated kitchen devices.

When Sam saw Katie for the first time, hair cropped and ready for battle, his breath had caught.  That was his daughter, but it wasn’t at the same time. It was like someone had chipped away the bits of her she’d been hiding behind all those years.  Sam saw the child he raised, the child he loved with all his heart, and also a fierce warrior and hero. It had filled him with so much pride.

Pidge came out to him as genderfluid with they/them pronouns, and Sam felt something settle within him.  It was like watching a baby deer finally grow into their long legs, or a puppy growing into the size of their paws.  Pidge grew into themselves, and Samuel was so in awe of this person that he helped raise. So much so that it almost hurt him to just light his torch instead of rushing forward and hugging Pidge with all his strength.

  
  


***

  
  


In the middle of the night when Matt was twelve  he was woken up. He heard the hesitant padding of slippered feet, and then his door cracked open and a little squeaky voice whispered, “Matt!  I’m coming in!”

“Go back to sleep, Katie,” Matt groaned, rolling over and pulling his pillow down over his head.

“I can’t, Matt.  I have a question.”

“It can’t wait until morning?” he grunted, but Matt knew his little sister.  He knew that once Katie had something in her head, there was no distracting her until she got an answer.  So instead of rolling over again he sat up, rubbing his eyes as he blinked blearily in the hallway lights flooding towards him.

Katie stumbled into the room and shut the door, climbing onto Matt’s bed.  She was wearing a very serious look for someone so little, and Matt remembered being unnerved by her in that moment.

“I want to go back.”

Wait… what?  Matt tried to process for a minute before he asked tentatively, “Where do you want to go back to?”

“Here, I’ve done some research,” she said eagerly, “babies all come from storks, but the storks have to come from somewhere, right?  I think that they have satellite facilities all throughout the world, but their big factories have to be in the most densely populated areas, right?”

Matt’s brain was a skipping record and he could not compute.  “I… you want to go back to the stork?”

“Yes.  I want to tell them that they made a mistake.”

That made Matt grimace, alarm shooting through him.  He was definitely awake now. Why did she think that?  “Why do you think they made a mistake, Katie?”

She bit at her lip, shifting restlessly on his covers.  “I’m not a girl. I can’t be. I don’t like girl things and I don’t like long hair or makeup or painting my nails or sleepovers or talking about boys or listening to pop music or… I think I just came out wrong.  They must have put me together wrong. It’s like I’m the right string of code written in the wrong coding language.”

There were tears sliding down Katie’s cheek now, and Matt scrambled forward to pull his little sister into a tight and reassuring embrace.  “Listen to me, okay?”

Her head moved against his chest in the affirmative.  

“You are not a mistake.  You are exactly the way you were meant to be.  Just because you don’t like the same things most girls do doesn’t change who you are.  You’re still my little sister, and I still love you, okay?”

That memory was as clear as day in his mind as Matt’s candle was being lit.  In contrast to that confused kid, his little sibling now had the look of someone who had come across something wonderful.  Maybe that was why the ceremony was titled The Founding. Maybe when the teen walked into the room they finally realized that there was no mistake.  

It had taken years, but Matt was watching Pidge wink at him mischievously and suddenly he knew that they were finally exactly who they were meant to be.

  
  


***

  
  


Each of the paladins got their chance for their torch to be lit.  Lance looked the most emotional at first, but at further inspection it ended up being Shiro would was crying the most. 

Coran stood in front of the semicircle of Pidge’s earth family and found family and cleared his throat.  “You have all been chosen because you’ve helped guide our Seeker in their quest to know themselves more fully.  Your journey doesn’t end here, though! Just as our Seeker dons the white sash to recognize that they can still grow and learn, your jobs are to continue to guide them down their path in life.  Do you all swear to uphold your duties as Guides?”

Everyone said “yes!” loudly.  Their torches were at varying heights from being lit so slowly, but Coran couldn’t help but think how beautiful they all looked.

The champagne was passed out towards the end of the ceremony, and Coran was gazing down at Pidge, brimming with pride.  His own little number 5, the green paladin that they all knew and loved. 

Coran never thought he’d perform this ceremony again.  When he found out the Alteans had died out, he had thought the tradition had died out.  However, as Coran looked towards the back of the room at the camera broadcasting to the captured Alteans, Coran knew that the tradition might not be lost.  There might be something to salvage. Maybe he could pass his knowledge down to a new generation.

He held up a bowl of water.  “This water signifies you cleansing yourself of your doubts and fears and stepping forward into your own skin fully and without reservation.  If everyone could raise your glasses,” Coran looked up. The whole gathered group was watching him expectantly, and he beamed confidently. “To growing and learning and becoming ourselves!”

Everyone cheered as Pidge sipped the water in the bowl, downing it quickly and then looking up at Coran with a face so unbelievably vibrant and breathtaking that Coran felt his heart stop.

That moment of elation was the whole reason Coran got certified to perform this ceremony.  The moment when the Seeker completes the Finding, and steps more fully into their own skin, was the most magical and uplifting feeling in the world.  Watching it happen was like an empathetic contact high, and he touched Pidge’s shoulder gently. 

“We will now open the floor for the party!  Stick around, there will be cake!”

  
  


***

  
  


Pidge had never felt so light.

There was always this imaginary place in their head where who they were didn’t matter.  It was a place where people just took you as you were. Pidge thought that their whole life would turn upside down when they came to terms with who they were.

No, instead… instead they had walked into a room of over a hundred people, mostly military members, who were there to tell Pidge that they accepted the paladin exactly the way they were.

The support bolstered them up so high that they half expected their head to hit the ceiling any minute.  The “Congrats it’s a ‘they’” poster made its way out of the blue lion and onto the wall by the drinks. Pidge was getting hugs and high fives and even some presents, and they had never felt so whole.

These were the moments, Pidge thought warily.  These were the good ones. They were the shiny gold coins that needed to be hoarded and protected, to be saved up and pulled out when the world is falling apart so that you can remember what you were fighting for.  Pidge committed it to memory painstakingly. They were trying to remember the exact height Hunk lifted them off the ground with a hug. They were trying to remember the way that Lance and Keith’s fingers kept widing together without thinking and then pulling them apart, and how they both would blush like idiots.  They tried to imprint the image of their parents on the dance floor, gesturing for Pidge and Matt to join them in dancing.

It was moments like this, ones with the whole world at your feet, that made the whole thing worthwhile.

  
  


***

  
  


Iverson was nibbling on his cake, watching Pidge Holt dart between supporters and beam like the sun.  It occurred to him, then, that something like this could be amazing The implications of such a ceremony occuring in human culture was intriguing.  

It would be hard to argue with a face like that when people say, “They’re just doing it for attention.”

While he was filing that note away for later, he got a transmission on his wristwatch.

_ Meeting Room C _

So with two slices of cake Iverson made his way to Meeting Room C, and opened the door to find that Takashi was pacing rapidly.

“I brought you dessert,” Iverson pointed out, placing one slice onto the conference table and then dropping into his own seat, continuing to eat his piece.

The pacing started up again.  Shiro’s robot arm kept getting farther from the socket joint and then closer again, like the man was tugging nervously on the gravity.  

If Iverson learned anything in his life, though, it was patience.  He waited for Shiro to speak.

After about twenty minutes of this, Shiro finally slammed his fist on the table.

“It’s not fucking fair.”

Without flinching, Iverson asked, “What’s not fair?”

“I… today, that ceremony was beautiful,” Shiro’s eyes were wild as he ran his hand through his prematurely silver hair, “It was beautiful, and almost everyone I knew and loved was there.  Then I kept thinking about other ceremonies. I was thinking about weddings, and birthdays, and holidays, and how I have so many of those celebrations left in my life and how he’ll never have that again.”

His voice was hoarse towards the end, breathing erratically.  

It took a moment, but Shiro slowed his breathing, and then seemed to deflate into himself.  He collapsed into one of the meeting chairs with his head in his hands.

Iverson gently prodded the piece of cake and a fork towards the captain of the Atlas.

Initially Shiro just glared at the older man, who just shrugged.  

“Listen, I know a thing or two about losing people I love,” Iverson began, feeling hollow grief start to creep up on him.  “What I’ve learned is that you can’t stop living just because they stopped. It’s your job to keep on living. If you stop, then you are as dead as they are.”

You could hear a pin drop for a few moments, and Iverson didn’t back down.  Despite the tense nature of the silence, and the frustration radiating off of Takashi.  He wasn’t one to relent so easily, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back on this.

After what felt like forever, Shiro reached a tentative hand out and pulled the cake closer to him, inspecting the piece before popping a bite into his mouth.

“Raspberry buttercream filling?” Shiro asked thoughtfully, and Iverson just laughed.

“I don’t honestly know.  It just tasted good and I figured you’d be hungry.”

“I am,” Shiro admitted, taking another bite of cake.  “It’s good.”

  
  


***

  
  


As Allura continued to untie Pidge’s hair and set aside the flowers, she yawned and talked in slurred, excited tones about how beautiful the ceremony was and how she was so proud of Pidge.  When she was done stripping the makeup and undoing the hair, Allura pulled something from her bag.

It was a smooth silvery disc, and Pidge sat up, green eyes hungry to take in new information on a new device.

“What is it?” Pidge asked quietly, walking toward it and running their fingers over the surface.

“You were getting ready for a long time, so I had Romelle work on this with Hunk and Ryan.  It’s a short video of everyone telling you about how excited they were for you. There’s also film from the ceremony, too, that way you can remember this night for-oof!” Allura gasped as Pidge ploughed into her and wrapped thin arms around Allura’s waist, hands shaking.

“It’s perfect,” Pidge declared, hugging tighter until Allura started petting Pidge’s face affectionately.

“So are you.”

  
  


_ One Year Later _

  
  


The small assembled group was silent as Pidge popped the disc into the player.

No one spoke as they scrolled through the menu and started the film.

An image popped onto the screen, of a dazzling Allura fixing her hair in front of the camera.

“Is it on?  Yes? Mr. Kinkade, you should let me know when… oh, right!” her elegant accent sounded even more pretentious and formal in the recording.  “Right, hello. This video is for Pidge. The following will be video clips from your ceremony and also from people showing you their support,” Allura went to stand up, an the collective group watching were left feeling crushed.

Then the Ryan Kinkade on the video stopped her.  “Hey, no, let’s do you first. Your interview, I mean.” 

The princess paused when Ryan finally said, “Why did you want to make this video?”

Allura plopped back down, tapping her chin thoughtfully.  Her eyes were so vibrant in the camera light, and beautiful when filled with introspection.

“Well, normally a Finding is one of the most important days in an Altean’s life.  It’s quite silly how so many other developed civilizations don’t conform to similar customs.  Pidge is someone I treasure as a friend and even a member of my family. I wanted to share one of the most meaningful ceremonies I knew with them.  Part of it was to remember Altea, of course. During the ceremony, despite the location and the substituted components of the ritual, I felt like I was home.  That wasn’t the most important reason, though. This is what I want Pidge to hear, though, so…”

She cleared her throat, looking directly into the camera.  “Pidge, when I met you I had never had a sibling or a child, but now I feel like I have a little of both in you.  You’ve given me far more credit than I probably deserve, and advised me on difficult situations with the same grace and poise of an Altean double your age.”

After another deep breath, she continued, “Everyone else on the team was easy to pin down when we began.  Lance was the teasing comedian, Keith was the talented loner, and then there was you. I didn’t have a category for you, or any readily available stereotype to place you under so that I could figure out where you sat in the grand scheme of my life.  Apparently that was right where you needed to be, though.”

There was collective silence in the room as they watched as the princess on the screen wipe a tear from her eye.    

“I wanted to share this ceremony with you because I wanted you to know with absolute certainty that we all accept you.  You are so important to me, Pidge, and you have so many people who love and cherish you. I hope that this gives you a chance to see it.”

Pidge, who was holding tightly to Hunk’s hand, sobbed out openly.

“Make sure you hear from everyone,” she directed Kinkade behind the camera, “I want this video to be full of happy memories.”

The screen cut to the ceremony, and they paused the film.

Everyone in the room heaved a collective sigh.  Hunk was holding tight to Pidge’s hands. Lance was sitting on the back of the couch with Keith tucked between his legs.  Shiro stood up and walked away for a minute, looking lost and overwhelmed.

The worst was Coran, though, who came towards the screen and then fell to his knees.  His hand touched her face against the glass, then made a fist.

“She was the bravest woman I’ve ever known,” Coran said softly, and everyone agreed silently.

Allura was gone now, absorbed into the fabric of the universe, or… whatever.  What mattered, though, was that she was never going to be standing in front of them like this again.

Pidge pressed play on the video again, and everyone slowly migrated back to their spots on the couch, watching the procession, and the sash giving, and the torch lighting.  Through all of it they tracked Allura’s movement dutifully, like they could recreate her in their minds if they looked at her long enough.

It had been a few weeks since… well, since the end of the fight.  Their memories of her were getting weaker and dimmer. Pidge had found this while cleaning out their bunk at the Garrison.

When the video ended, Lance excused himself with Keith hot on his trail.  

Pidge was frozen, Allura’s voice playing over and over again in their head.  About how Pidge was like family, about how much she wanted Pidge to feel accepted.  

“Thank you,” Pidge whispered, holding their head high, “I’ll never forget you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> With that, my friends, this series has drawn to a close. Thank you all for your support- I loved writing this and am so satisfied that it has concluded in the way I designed it to. 
> 
> If you like this, check out some of my other fics<3


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